#'sometimes���' i started to say‚ but like. i'm attracted to women at the same rate i'm attracted to people of other genders‚ really—

[tiptapricot]

bestie help... i can't sleep because i'm being plagued with visions of old gay people (bnt)... ik you've mentioned a few things about them in middle age in another hc post but i would bw delighted to hear any more thoughts if you had some 💖

Ohhh I can try!! I’m placing middle aged BnT post FtM since that’s an area I haven’t explored as much

Life after saving all of time and space is… strange. In a lot of ways it’s not that different, and in others it reaaaally is

One one hand, Bill and Ted still live in the same houses, they still go over to jam with each other every day, they still have their kids and their wives, but on the other, there’s stories of them and their family all over news sites and social media, Wyld Stallyns has rocketed back to worldwide success, and they both have this creeping feeling that maybe their marriage issues weren’t meant to be fixed at all….

Being in the cosmic nexus of a destiny-achieving, existence-saving event with your best friend kind of changes your perspective on a lot of stuff

The paparazzi mellow out after a year or so, but they still have people coming up to ask for autographs and to give thank yous, and news stories are still running mundane updates on them at the end of reports, and all the stores they’re regulars at give them discounted drinks, and it’s strange

The world as a whole has had a shift, too, a good one

Reports after the fact described the event as time and space being twisted and punctured and stretched like putty or rubber, and though most things ended up back to normal, there were still after effects, fingerprints and bumps left in the wake of a near disaster

For a few weeks after The Song That United The World was played, the whole planet was thrumming with leftover energy. It was the most creative humanity had ever been. Artists, singers, painters, writers, sculptors, architects, actors, mathematicians, everyone was spurred on by a bone deep inspiration, and the world created

People became kinder to each other too, gentler and more open and caring, sensors found that the global temperature had miraculously dropped to safe levels, nature started growing back at a faster more vivacious rate, and a scientist discovered that Wyld Stallyns’ music contained an inherent connection to the cosmic vortex, and as a result, made a perfect and sustainable source of green energy when played

So much happened, and yet Bill and Ted… stayed Bill and Ted

They don’t have the same weight and hopelessness as before, they have a stable music career and their kids have been helping produce all the songs they came up with in the Great Creativity Boom, and they don’t feel any different, but that’s the thing

The story that they would unite the world always seemed so distant, and then it became reality in the course of a few days. Even a year after the fact, it’s still a lot to take in

That and… the fact that Bill and Ted can’t stop looking at each other differently

They keep having moments, while hanging out in the garage, where they’ll just find themselves staring at each other, hip to hip on the couch, and there’s something different there than there was before. Or maybe they just didn’t notice it until now

Bill talks to Jo about it, and Ted does the same with Liz. They’re hesitant, because after working to hard to stay together, wouldn’t it make that pointless if they ended things now?

It’s a lot of late night talks, a lot of hugs and snuggling

Jo and Bill have talked about similar stuff before, about Bill’s long standing feelings for Ted, and about Jo’s attraction to women, but they still thought staying in a relationship would be best. But now that Bill’s been seeing how Ted looks at him, he realizes maybe it’s not after all

It’s all new for Ted though, and it’s kind of difficult for him to wrap his head around. Liz sits on the back porch with him and they share drinks and watch the stars and just… talk. Realizing you’re in love is a big thing after all

The divorces are easier than any of them expect, and it’s like a weight is removed from their shoulders afterwards, a new sense of freedom

They decide to have Jo move in with Liz and Ted with Bill, a similar set up to what they did in their early 20s, and start moving their things over

In a lot of ways it does feel the same as moving out after graduation, only this time, when Ted brings his last box of stuff in, when it’s just him and Bill standing in the entryway sweaty and smiling, he takes a step forward, and takes Bill’s face in his hands, and traces a thumb over his cheek as Bill smiles and closes his eyes, and leans in to kiss him

It’s not a movie moment, nothing dramatic and huge, and yet it is the sweetest kiss Ted “Theodore” Logan has ever had

It’s easy to go back to living with each other again, they work together just as well as they always have, only now there’s a new kind of domesticity seeping into the cracks of their life

Casual touches, slow dances in the kitchen and living room, the sleepy weight of the other person’s body against theirs in bed

Bill asks about marriage one night, when it’s just them, when only Ted will feel his breath and the way he shifts to be closer to his chest, and Ted says, “Yeah… I’d like that.”

They don’t invite too many people. They keep it close family and friends. Missy takes Bill suit shopping and Liz helps Ted pick out a dress, and Billie and Thea perform a fantastic song at the reception

The next day they wake up to the news that three thought to be extinct species have been rediscovered

Bill likes to kiss Ted’s wedding ring, and Ted uses the word husband like he’ll never get another chance, and they are so damn happy

Sometimes it can still be rough. They still have sleepless nights where their heads are full of thoughts of other timelines and flashing visions of distant galaxies and the infinite tangle of time, but they have each other when that happens

They can talk about what they see, about the changes. Bill can squeeze Ted’s hand and snuggle into his neck, and they don’t have to think about prison yards or their own cosmic importance

Through it all, with each other they are allowed to be Bill and Ted, nothing else, and that’s the greatest destiny either of them could ask for

Headcanons masterpost

[emma-what-son]

(Echee post) Emma Watson criticises 'dangerously unhealthy' pressure on young women

Posted on March 30 2014

From theguardian.com March 2014 Emma Watson has criticised the "dangerously unhealthy" image projected by the fashion industry and said the pressure to look perfect has taken its toll on her. The actor has also described her doomed attempts to merge into the background as a student at an American university, where she found herself being trailed everywhere by British photographers. After the recent New York premiere of Noah, she tweeted a photograph of the array of cosmetics – and a guardian angel pin – that she said were essential aids to her flawless appearance, and another of herself in a backless dress captioned: "I did NOT wake up like this." The actress said she is better at taking criticism these days than she once was. "As a younger woman, that pressure got me down, but I've made my peace with it. With airbrushing and digital manipulation, fashion can project an unobtainable image that's dangerously unhealthy. I'm excited about the ageing process. I'm more interested in women who aren't perfect. They're more compelling." Watson became famous playing Hermione Granger in the Harry Potter movies and has been constantly in work since. She is about to start filming a thriller, Regression, by Alejandro Amenábar and is also trying to complete her degree at Brown University, Rhode Island. She enrolled in 2009 for what would have been a four year course, but has taken several breaks for film work, and spent a year studying at Oxford. "After Harry Potter, all that mattered was university," she said, in an interview with the Sunday Times. "It wasn't always easy to break down barriers, as having men from the British press following me with cameras didn't help my mission to integrate. The American press, by contrast, "afforded me so much privacy", but her fellow students recognised her at once. "On the first day, I walked into the canteen and everyone went completely silent and turned around to look at me. I had to say to myself 'it's OK, you can do this'. You just have to take a deep breath and gather your courage."

GUARDIAN COMMENTERS SAY: So something like this Burberry campaign she did a few years ago? Hypocrisy at its finest. She flaunts with the fashion industry and enjoys its perks all the time, but hops on the 'female beauty' bandwagon and enjoys a moan when it suits her. I'd find her socially conscientious pleas convincing if she hadn't profited in the hundreds of thousands (if not millions) from the big, bad, evil fashion/beauty industry. A few years ago, Emma Watson appeared in high-profile advertising companies for posh Paris fashion house L'ancome. I'm guessing she was handsomely remunerated for her 'work'. Certainly she was not forced into letting her photo shopped image be used to market expensive cosmetics and perfumes. Did she only discover how 'oppressive' the fashion industry is when L'ancome cancelled her lucrative contract? Ms Watson is essentially a third-rate actress, and her pronouncements on large and complex issues, such as the pressures on women, are so idiotically vapid that one is brought to conclude that she really can have very little aptitude for higher education. I mean, her comments are hardly indicative of an educated person, or even of a moderately literate or intelligent person. By the way, I understand that she spent a year at Oxford as a visiting and/or exchange student while enrolled at Brown. How come? She is a British national, and so by rights she should not have gone to Oxford on a visiting/exchange student programme, irrespective of whether she happens a student at an American university. If I am wrong about this, then I should like to have some explanation as to her status at Oxford, and how she came by it. Otherwise, I suppose that one might be forgiven for thinking that it is yet another case of a once respectable academic institutions bowing down before the false idols of celebrity and money. (This is quite apart from the fact that all that one has read about her since she began life as a student concerns her acting career, her modeling and her various boyfriends.) SOME COMMENTS FROM THE DM ARTICLE Notice how it's always people who are very aware of how attractive they are that babble on about how it's okay to have physical blemishes? I'd like to see an ugly person say the same thing. Only someone young, beautiful and with her whole life before her can say that, and mean it. Sometimes, her comments maKe her more stupid. Get lost and Wingardium Leviosa. What a daft thing to say. But, then again, this is coming from someone who can't seem to finish uni. I feel like I've aged about 10 years reading this article. Annoying girl. Not only annoying, but also pretentious and disingenuous. ^None of this is my words. It from commentators from two sites emma-what-son posted many more so check out her page

Here's what I think As for what she is saying about Brown it's a complete 180 from how she described it before 2013. In 2013 she started to elude to the fact it was not as great as she made it out to be. She gushed how wonderful her experiences had been to so many magazines. Now I think she's looking for pity and to have excuses why she never stayed at Brown. She preached how she was staying put. I am so fucking tired of having to post quote after quote proving my point with this when she lies time after time. She is not honest! What the truth is doesn't matter because she always lying. It's a constant thing with her. As for the pressures on women she is really a piece of work. The guardian commenters summed it up nicely. She had no problem attaching herself to Burberry and Lancôme. She's had no problem giving them praise and talking about fashion and make-up in just about every interview. That part where she talked about photo shopping and air brushing. Just wow! Did she see the Wonderland magazine she edited? Some photos it didn't even look like her. She'll continue allowing her image to be manipulated no matter what. She thinks she’s aging? She still looks 15 without all the make-up and photo shopping. Last year she was stopped at JFK because they thought she was a unaccompanied minor. Did you know one of the product she pushed when modeling for Lancôme was an anti-age cream? That's the dumbest comment in her entire interview. But really she's said this kind of stuff the last three years and most notably in 2011 where she had a various quotes about body image and being comfortable in your skin. I wont bore you with those quotes since I have before. She gets lauded for those comments and people place her in role model status but when you closely look at it they were just words that meant nothing at the time other than to make people think, “Emma is so anti-Hollywood!! She’s a role model for women and young girls” but meanwhile she never believed in any of it in the first place. At the time she said those things she was at a more healthier weight than she ever was. In 2011 you can tell she either stopped working out or ate more. I thought she looked her best then. Now she’s back to stick thin and even surpassed it a way IMO is unhealthy. She sending a bad message to women. From standard.co.uk July 2011, “She sees modeling as an extension of acting, in fact - just playing a role - but is conflicted about its demands. “I think the pressure the media and the fashion industry put on women to look a certain way is pretty intense. There’s a certain tyranny to trying to achieve that kind of beauty. I don’t know, I’m maybe not the best person to speak about this because I obviously completely adhere to it,” she laughs nervously. “ ^She really needs to start taking her own advice and quit being a judgmental hypocrite. Not just with this topic but everything she tends to speak out against that she does it herself. Recently she tweeted a photo of all this make-up and I posted this on my tumblr days ago

^Same phone in this photo is what they're using in the bottom photo that I also posted on tumblr She said something else recently (Sunday Times interview) that is just typical Emma. I covered this a few times. From emmawatsonbelgium.blogspot.be March 2014, "For someone who has starred in eight blockbuster movies and is worth an estimated £30m, she is endearingly modest about how green she felt leaving Harry Potter behind in 2011. Emerging from that magical machine was “really intimidating”, she says. “I’d done two tiny plays when I was, like, six and eight, but I wasn’t driven to act. I wasn’t doing Oscar acceptance speeches into a hairbrush." Yeah it might have no been a hairbrush but who knows she could be lying about that. She'd practice her speeches in mirrors. From telegraph.co.uk July 2007,  "Pauline is utterly obsessed with being an actress and I was just like that when I was younger. I dreamt of it. I practised speeches in front of mirrors. Whenever there was a part at school, I went for it. I was probably a bit of a show-off in the sense that any chance to get up and be seen, I did it. I was such a drama queen. I used to wail and moan and cry, and little things were blown up into being big things. I don't know how my parents stood it, really. I've grown up a bit. I've had to. I actually really want to be an actress, a proper actress who makes it her career. I'm always expecting to be found out and I thought, If I'm no good, now is the time to find out." She really wants people to think she all of a sudden wants to act. What I think is she is really trying to distance herself from her lack luster post Potter career by making it out like she now wants to act and that’s why she has no lead roles because her resume does not equal her hype. The last few years she’s separated herself from “always wanted to be an actress” to “I was not sure”. She’s being disingenuous as usual and people believe it. Plus she said she did modeling so directors and producers would look at her differently so that's why she used Burberry and Lancôme. And she did a course at RADA in 2008 so if she was not sure or didn't want to than why did she do these things? One more thing from the Sunday Times interview From emmawatsonbelgium.blogspot.be March 2014, "It’s about as close as she’ll get to revealing anything about her newest relationship, with Matt Janney, rugby hunk and Oxford’s most eligible bachelor. “I can’t comment on it, I’m sorry,” she says, suddenly jumping up and hastily bundling her things back into her bag, which has exploded across the sofa beside her. “I’m trying to keep my private life sacred, although I don’t want to lock myself up and never go out. So I guard it, because I don’t date people who are famous, and I don’t think it’s fair that, all of a sudden, intimate details of their personal life are public as a direct result of me. I find that so uncomfortable, and I wish there was a way I could protect those people, but it’s not in my control.” When I suggest her boyfriends are consenting adults, she looks worried. “But you don’t choose who to love, who you have feelings for, do you?” She throws her phone into her bag and retreats home to pack, as she’s flying to LA. Just a normal girl, then, off to present an Oscar."

So she can go to international magazines and complain she can't find a man or that men are intimidated by her? She had in the past before Will Adamowicz. It was in almost every one of her interviews for a few years. So she can use Matt Janney (this new guy) on a beach in a bikini PDA session as a publicity stunt to cover up her ex boyfriend being caught rolling coke bombs and also use him to product place an iPhone in Madrid but she wants to keep it private? And she doesn't date famous guys? What about Johnny Simmons (Young Neil) and George Craig (Front man for rock group One Night Only)?  If you can Google their name and you see them in movies or music videos, they're famous.

[mychemicalficrecs]

hey i don't know if there's many fics like this, but i'm an absolute sucker for that friends-to-lovers trope and i was wondering if you could suggest any. i remember especially liking one called "sweatshirt serenade" by nsfwfrerardx on ao3 (i think), and i'd like to know if there were more of that out there. don't really care about explicit or the length.

Hi Nonny!

There's tons of friends to lovers fic out there! A lot of the more canon compliant mcr fic probably has this trope, actually.I hope you find something you like on this list!

Friends to Lovers

Sweatshirt Serenade by nsfwfrerardx, Frank/Gerard, 15k, Explicit. Frank has a crush on his best friend's older brother. Said brother takes his virginity. Basically smut!

Release the Bats by Sena, Ray/Mikey, 10k, Mature. Sure, Mikey's a vampire, but Ray's okay with that. He's still Mikey, after all, still Ray's friend, still dorky and sweet and funny and amazing and, yeah. Maybe Ray likes him as more than just a friend.

Kiss it Better by Sena, Frank/Mikey, 8k, Explicit. Mikey's not a violent guy, but Frank makes him want to punch a fucking wall.

Heart Wrapped in Clover by Sena, Frank/Mikey, 19k, Explicit. Everbody's got their not-so-secret secrets on tour. When you live out of a van, you just can't help but notice things that you shouldn't talk about if you don't want to embarrass your friends or start a fight. Frank wishes sometimes they talked about things, though, because he's dying to ask if anybody else has noticed that sometimes, Mikey wears panties.

Won't Know 'til You Begin by knight_tracer, Sena, Frank/Mikey, 24k, Explicit. In which Frank is an accidental pervert, Mikey sleeps with Fabio, Gerard is much too sincere when talking about pain sluts, Ray is terrible with women and great with guitars, and Otter's got really bad taste in music. Alternately, the one where Frank realizes he has a thing for Mikey, Mikey realizes he has a thing for guys, and they're both adorably stupid failboats.

All That Shit Seems To Disappear When I'm With You by gala_apples, Frank/Patrick/Mikey/Pete, 26k, Explicit. Frank’s been attracted to Mikey for awhile, a feeling that he’s kept carefully to himself. Other people don’t have the same compulsion for secrecy. On the first day of school there’s a short angry boy standing at Frank’s locker, condemning him for making Pete’s life hard. September quickly turns into a month of bad decision making as Frank, Pete, and Patrick deal with Mikey not feeling the same way they do. Except, that’s not true. After all, none of them have actually asked Mikey his side of things.

Sing the Revolution by turps, Frank/Gerard/Mikey, 19k, Mature. A high school AU about brothers, best friends, boyfriends, and a lot of cross-dressing.

You Only Hear the Music When Your Heart Begins to Break by Solarcat, Frank/Gerard, 14k, Teen And Up Audiences. Frank has high school figured out. His mom has given up arguing about the amount of time he spends in Gerard's basement, and he doesn't actually care if people think it's weird that he and Gerard hold hands in the hallways and go to the bathroom together. The only thing Frank cares about is figuring out why Gerard's suddenly avoiding him -- because what's the point of losing your virginity on Prom Night if you can't tell your best friend about it in the morning?

With Words I Thought I'd Never Speak by brynnmck, Frank/Gerard, Lindsey/Gerard, 11k, Explicit. It's like being with Lindsey has switched on some sort of current inside him, and when he gets up onstage it comes crackling out, lighting him up, sparking off the sweaty upturned glowing faces of all the kids out in the audience, and he couldn't shut it off if he tried. And Frankie is, well, Frankie, only turned up to eleven, somehow, flailing all over the place like a downed power line, leaving a trail of blissed-out destruction in his wake. And his face in Gerard's crotch.

Black Market Blood by autoschediastic, Frank/Gerard, 17k, Explicit. Frank's so fucking freaky he's potentially wigging out a fucking vampire.

see your moves by morphosyntactic, Frank/Mikey, 1k, Explicit. The thing is, Frank has been waiting a long ass time to get in Mikey’s pants.

Buzzed by synonomy, Frank/Gerard, 6k, Mature. "You should," Frank gets out between snorts, "you should cut your hair." "What?" Gerard wheezes. "No, it's just - it's all stuck up." Frank shuffles forwards on his knees and then his hands are in Gerard's hair. Gerard's laughter dies down abruptly. Frank's fingers are surprisingly gentle on his scalp, ruffling it up, carding through it. "We'd probably have to wash it first, though," he says thoughtfully.

Picture of Health by brooklinegirl, Frank/Gerard, 11k, Explicit. They've been on tour for less than a week when Gerard sees Frank hooking up with the dude from Twin Atlantic.

your money where your mouth is by endlessnighttimesky, Frank/Gerard, 2k, Explicit. "If you have to go to the ER after this you won't blame me, you mean?" Frank grins. "I take full responsibility," he agrees. "Now put it in me, baby."

Mostly Dead by ky_betty, Frank/Gerard/Mikey, 20k, Rated R. Frank and Mikey get turned into vampires and Frank's not sure he can deal with being a monster.

Whatever I Want (Whatever That Is) by brooklinegirl, Frank/Gerard, 9k, Explicit. The first time Frank walked in on Gerard going down a girl in the dressing room, he was pissed.

Between the Wish and the Thing by ciel_vert, fleurdeliser, Frank/Gerard, 24k, Explicit. Gerard has been in love with his best friend and bandmate for years. It sucks. Especially because he's convinced himself that Frank does not feel the same. But a series of events including a long overdue break from touring, gastroenterology specialists, a new puppy and a visit from a know-it-all brother and his smart-as-hell wife, make Gerard question his assumptions.

Choice by silentdescant, Frank/Mikey, Frank/Gerard/Mikey, 1k, Mature. Frank can't keep his crush a secret.

Kicked In The Balls by ladyfoxxx, Frank/Gerard, 4k, Explicit. Baby's first bandom fic. Of course it's all about the stagegay.

you weaseled your way into my heart (and ferreted out my feelings) by akamine_chan, Frank/Gerard, 5k, Mature. You gotta watch out for those bands with umlauts.

straight up by Trojie, Ray/Gerard, 26k, Explicit. Ray will one day blame years of the kind of friendship that involves one person opening the other person up to a host of new, exciting life experiences they wouldn't otherwise have got, and the second person in return spending a lot of time hovering in the ED trying to remember the street names of colourful pills, for what happens after he walks in on Gerard in their hotel room.

I'm Not Sleeping (Trust Me) by Dira Sudis (dsudis), Frank/Gerard, 12k, Explicit. They didn't get any sleep while they were making the "I'm Not Okay" video.

For a Different View by impertinence, Ray/Mikey, 50k, Explicit. AU. Ray Toro is a girl, Rae, but MCR is still just MCR.

[honeybeesintheimpala]

Title: An Angel's Lullaby

Pairing: DeanCas, Destiel

Rating: Explicit

Words: 93,662

Status: Complete

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7984306/chapters/18268822

Chapter One - The Man with the Ocean Eyes

"Excuse me," a gravelly voice suddenly fills the room and Dean's pen nearly goes flying, heart pumping. It's been at least two days since anyone's even walked through those doors and being alone with his thoughts isn't exactly a new thing but for that long, it gets to be a surprise when someone says something. He keeps it under control though, doesn't look up except a quick glance at a nice pair of khakis and a deep purple jumper.

He goes back to scribbling on the piece of paper where he's supposed to be filling out a request for another truck to come and take away a few boxes of older books, bring them to a charity or a foster house somewhere. 

"What can I help you with," he says, surprised that his own voice is bored considering his heart is pounding out a Jamaican beat and he's pretty sure he almost pissed his pants.

"I was just wondering if there are any books that you might recommend? I'm in the mood for reading, but not really sure what to look for," the man speaks at a low volume, as if there's anyone here to be disturbed.

Dean's intrigue is piqued though, so he pauses his doodles, knits his eyebrows together and looks up.

His eyes trace up the outline of his jumper, which wraps nicely around a narrow waist and a great chest, then leads into a white collared shirt, tan neck, a scruffy jaw that can't decide between chiseled and soft, some full lips that look like they might be chapped bit also look incredibly kissable, a straight-edge nose, and finally, two unfathomable blue eyes, shining bright as the Caribbean ocean that Dean is entirely too sure they are made of. His hair is a messy looking, bed-head-esque mop of dark chocolate brown and he smiles down at Dean as if he isn't the most attractive person Dean's ever encountered.

He's actually blown away by the fact that this man is inside a nearly failing library right now instead of out modeling a white pinstripe suit and blue tie from Men's Warehouse somewhere.

This time, Dean thinks he may actually piss his pants, but he refrains from any sort of urination onto cloth, as a mind-blowingly handsome man with some captivating blue eyes that seem to have stolen the sea is standing in front of his desk, asking about books.

He also refrains from exhibiting all of these passing thoughts on his face, because it feels like it's been a few minutes since he asked the question and the guy's probably starting to think Dean's some weirdo who can't speak under pressure.

"Library's a dying business, sir," he sits back in his chair and sets the pen down slowly. "Yeah, all the kids got their...electronic readers and...there are bookstores that sell books. Never out of stock of a specific book. Sometimes we get that; not having a specific book because all the copies got checked out...or we used to have that..."

The man stares down at him with such focus and intent, nodding along and knitting his brows together. Who is this guy?

"Nah, I mean, it's amazing that...someone wants a book so badly and loves it so much that they gotta buy it and have it forever," Dean continues, then leans forward again, grabbing a book to his left and wiggling it in the air. "Not so awesome for the library."

"That's so...intriguing...that you respect those other industries so much..." He replies, squinting, head tilting in a puppy dog manner.

Dean chuckles, setting the book down. Stares at the black cover as his smile slowly fades.

"Not much else I can do," he shrugs, shuffling through several books to find the one with the light yellow-beige cover, red outline and text reading Oliver Twist glaring up at him, and a small, square, painted picture of a boy in a hat playing at the edge of a wood sitting just above the title. "Once these places shut down, I'll inevitably drift into a bookstore, sign up to be a clerk or a stocker. 'Cause I mean," he flips the book over and opens the back page. Pulls out the name card from the pocket glued to the inside of the cover and examines it. "Yeah, a book ain't been checked out from here in three months."

He laughs and throws the book to his right, watches it skid across the table and come to a stop beside the red canvas hardcover with shiny blue letters indenting the words Of Mice and Men.

"Wow...so...I mean, how do you guys stay in business?" The guy is leaning ever forward, hands gripping the edge of the desk and arms stick straight as he balances himself over the books.

Dean smirks up at him.

"Ah," he scrubs at the back of his neck, cheeks hot, and looks away into the corner of the main entrance. "Well, charities? Mostly...and, uh, you know, school fundraisers, donations from the coffee shop down the street." He squints up at the giant skylight making up about ninety percent of the roof, thinking. "Oh, uh...this one guy. Some sorta bookwrite. Author of...damn, what are those things called...gaaahh...oh! An Angel's Lullaby!" Recognition passes over the man's face in clear abundance. "Guy's name, I'm still drawin' a blank on--"

"Chuck Shurley," the guy cuts him off but Dean is impressed. It's such an obscure book but he obviously knows it well.

"Yeah!" He points at the guy. "Yeah, yeah. You know him? I mean, his work?"

"Yeah...too well...why?"

"Ah, no...I'm just...just surprised, you know? Not a real popular selection," Dean thinks for a moment and it falls silent once more. Then: "You met him? He did a book signing here once. Not many people came, but..."

"Oh, yeah I've met him..." He doesn't elaborate, but Dean suspects it's because he just explained it for the guy, and it seems like it's making him a little uncomfortable anyway.

"Uh," he looks for something that might change the subject. "Well, to answer your first question..." He opens his mouth to continue but ends up chuckling and shaking his head. "Look, man, there's just too many books and not enough time. I've been coming to this library my entire life, probably read every single book by now. I mean, I can point you to some of my favourites, I guess, but really the only one off the top of my head and without me getting up is An Angel's Lullaby."

"Are you religious?" He asks suddenly and Dean's bewildered by the inquiry until he realises how obsessed he must seem with the book.

"Oh..." He breathes out a laugh. "Nah, that's...I'm an atheist, actually. I'm just...really into angels. Religions and...gods and deities are my thing. To be honest, I could probably list thirty Christian angels off the top of my head."

"Really," he seems impressed and Dean blushes harder. "How about...the three main archangels and...the Angel of Thursday."

Specific...and strange. But okay, he'll play along. For the sake of flirting.

"Okay...well there's Michael, the eldest son of God who was set to the task of casting Lucifer, second oldest, into hell because he claimed he could not love humanity as he loved his father. Gabriel, protector of humanity, present at the birth of Jesus Christ and the deliverer of the Holy news. And then...actually, my favourite, if I'm honest-" he looks up and watches the man's lips part, a blush crawling up his neck too, and he briefly wonders why, "-Castiel. Angel of Thursday, keeper of prayers said on that day." He smirks for a second before adding, "Always heard he was a real looker."

The man seems flustered, tugging at his jumper, pulling the v-neck away from his chest and adjusting his collar.

"Me too," he chokes out and Dean thinks it's entirely unfair how cute this man looks with a scarlet flush painting his cheeks and his hands not able to find a resting placing.

"I..." Dean starts, gazing down at his hand fiddling with the edge of a hardcover, nail scraping against the canvas. "I think I remember a few more books. Not real sure what you would like, but, uh..." He tears a corner off of the paper he was drawing on and scribbles down the titles and respective authors, then continues as he hands the list to the man. "Most of 'em are...classics...Little Women, Gone With the Wind, A Wrinkle in Time, Wuthering Heights...the original and best...version of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland."

The man smiles down at the list and then down at Dean, and Dean's heart leaps into his throat.

"Thank you," he says quietly and Dean's eyes flit down, small smile of modest pride lifting his lips.

"Don't mention it," he whispers back, gaze meeting the man's once more. Then he leans forward and takes up the pen again, waggling it between two fingers. He leans on his bent arm and says, "So, you plannin' on checkin' anything out today, sir?"

And, without blinking or missing a beat, the man replies with the most unexpected answer, letting the words drip from his lips like fuckin' honey when he replies, "Just you."

Dean is astonished at this guy's guts, but a brazen vocabulary and a cocky attitude is exactly the kind of thing that gets him going.

He opens his mouth in a shocked kind of smile, and shakes his head as if he's offended at the nerve of those words.

"I...don't even know your name," Dean says slowly, eyes twitching from the man's leg to his chest to his mouth to his eyes. When they meet, the man tilts his head with another squint, this one more challenging than curious. Amazing how he can squint in the same manner with just the slightest differences and change the entire composure of the movement.

But Dean doesn't let himself get too distracted by this ability, and soon encounters a moment of realisation.

The blushing, fidgeting, stumbling words when he talked about Castiel...

"Your name is Castiel," he whispers, astounded. "And you have three brothers." Then more realisation. "And you haven't met Chuck Shurley, you used to live with him."

Castiel pushes his lips out and looks down, scratches through the stubble on the edge of his jaw, nods.

"And I assume," Castiel says, squinting at the wooden triangle at the corner of Dean's desk and smiling, then continuing, "your name is Dean Winchester and you work as a librarian."

"Hey, I am not...a librarian," he protests playfully, grin growing on his teeth. "I am...a book obsessed...checker...outer."

Castiel laughs and Dean gives him a look for a moment before bursting out into his own fit of laughter at how utterly ridiculous that title sounds.

"I'm guessing that sounded better in your head?"

"It did," Dean nods and chucks the pen at one of the books, sitting back in his chair again and kicking his legs up onto his desk. He cranes his neck and reaches behind him, grips the back of another rolling chair, and rolls it over so it's facing him. Pats the seat and jerks his head. "Come on around." Castiel looks uncertain, sliding the torn paper into his pocket and pursing his lips, slight squint of his eyes. Dean chuckles. "Come on. I don't bite."

"Isn't that against the rules or something?" Castiel asks as he makes his way around the right side of the desk and through the opening in the side, in spite of his words.

"'Eah, mostly," Dean shrugs and pushes his lips out, then smiles. "But no one else is around, don't have any cameras, and-" he holds out a hand, "-I'm a rebel."

Castiel laughs wholeheartedly at this, grin huge and gummy - the most enchanting thing Dean's ever seen - and his head tilted back, crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Dean notices a slight dimple in his left cheek and stores that information in the back of his mind for later, when he's having a rough day.

"What," he says, though he knows Castiel is laughing at his insanely stupid joking around.

"Nothing, you're just...really...interesting--"

"Interesting meaning...lame?" He squints and adds, "Dumbass, weirdo, bad amusement--"

"Hey, I genuinely laughed at that," Castiel points a finger at him, not hiding his grin.

Dean shakes his head, looks away, licks his lips. Things settle for a moment.

Dean plays with the hem of his black t-shirt, scratches his nails over the faded denim of his jeans, examines the familiar dark splotch of oil on the knee. He would dress nicer for work, but the last time anyone even walked through the doors was 48 hours ago, and he wasn't expecting any company today, either.

"Can't believe I'm flirting with the son of my favourite author," he mutters, reaching back over the back of his chair to snatch up another pen.

Castiel scoffs playfully, and Dean catches the smirk on his face when he turns back around.

"You call that flirting," Castiel quips, unbuttoning the wrists if his collared shirt and rolling the sleeves of both the shirt and jumper up.

Dean lets his brows drop and pushes his lips out in confusion. "Well...yeah..." Dean watches Castiel stifle a smile and glance down and away. "Why, what do you call it."

Castiel peeks up through mischievous, dark lashes and swimming eyes, lips parting in a secretive smirk.

"Honestly?" He starts, shifting in his seat and sitting back, settling his hands together in his lap. "A sad but sweet attempt to impress me."

"Oh, is that so?"

Castiel nods, grin growing across his cheeks. 

"And what would you consider flirting, mr. big-shot-I-know-exactly-how-to-woo-the-ladies?"

"Well, first of all," Castiel leans forward, rests an elbow against his knee, uses the armrest to balance himself, and points at Dean with raised brows, as if he's about to teach a lesson. "Sir. There's a difference between being laid back and being downright cocky. And you-" the corner of his lips twitches up very briefly, and his cyan blue eyes turn dark "-are neither."

"So what, exactly," Dean whispers, fingers a bit too loosely woven around the pen, teeth digging into his lip. "Do you propose I do about it?"

Castiel's gummy smile is printed into his teeth again and he shrugs a shoulder, bringing his lips down in an impressed bow.

"Well, that's the first step. Ask what you are instead of asking what to change. When you know, even if it's not true, even if it's only what another person sees, you can accept it."

Dean squints, leaning further back into his chair, pressing his index finger into the ballpoint, black ink tip of the pen and the other to the textured top of the cap wrapped around the end, pushing his tongue into his cheek and pursing his lips.

"Alright, fine. What am I?" Dean imposes, then grips the tip of the pen between his thumb and finger and adds, "To you. Smartass."

This earns him a short chuckle and an approving nod.

"Well...I think...you're reserved. You act like you're king shit and like you know exactly who you are, like you don't give two flying fucks about where you're headed in life, or maybe like you've already accepted it. You act comfortable with yourself, but what nerd is ever actually satisfied with their existence?" He's leaning ever-forward and Dean's cocksure smile is ever-fading, eyes becoming wide with marvel as the man-who-knows-too-much continues. "I think you're unsure. You're scared and you...you hide things that you think no one cares about. You're upset and self-deprecating. Eyes of a guilty conscience."

Dean drops his gaze, first to the floor, then to the pen, still grasped tightly by his fingers which have fallen into his lap and which fiddle vapidly with the object, nail scraping at the black polycarbonate and over the white indents that spell out the company name.

"But," Castiel starts up again, voice soft and lilting. Dean swallows hard. "I think you have a lot to give. I think you have...maybe too much to give. Too much forgiveness, too much love, too much doubt, too much strength and care. I think you are the embodiment of generosity, but you don't take what you really need in return. And I think that can get dangerous, but I also think that nothing is ever really too much." Dean's eyes flit back up in time to catch Castiel's angling downward, past Dean's chair, through the desk, through the floor, staring wistfully at something intangible. "People are greedy. And you're too willing to give."

Dean searches the man's face for any sign that this is all some sort of joke, that he's being filmed or some shit, but all he finds is truth and wisdom and knowledge, and possibly a glimmer, just a glimpse in those blue eyes, of a bittersweet past, an origin for where these words came from.

"I was right!" He exclaims as he sits back in the chair, shoulders trembling with a silent laugh. "You like to cover up your pain with gay jokes and stupid references."

"Now, that, I can't deny," Dean nods and everything falls silent. He rocks his chair gently, side to side, left to right, fingers still fidgeting with the tips of the pen, his head tilted in thought. Castiel's mouth is pulled up into a ginger smile, his eyes faraway and swimming in themselves, in the past, in glistening memories and soft-edged, slow-motion, sunny-fielded dreams. "What about you?" He asks suddenly, voice crackling and ripping through the still air as a quiet question. Castiel eyes don't move but his smile grows slightly. "I mean...what do you think of yourself."

"Not much," he replies, head lolling to the side and back, eyes catching on the impotent, pathetic little piles of books scattered about Dean's desk. "I like books. Reading. Writing. Time-consuming, arbitrary activities which include my eyes scanning words on a piece of pressed wood?" He furrows his brows and Dean throws his head back in a genuine, full laughter that he hasn't experienced in a long time.

"I can tell you write. What do you write about? Like, schmoopy romance novels? Sci-fi thrillers? Action adventure futurism?"

"And I can tell you do a lot of librarian...ing..." Castiel squints and presses his lips together in the contrite afterthought but continues, nevertheless. "I write what my dad would call 'a bunch of gay shit'." Dean cocks a brow. "Get your head out of the gutter, it's not as sexy as it sounds. For the most part. Bottom line, I'm gay, I hang out with gay people, and I wanted to dedicate my life to writing about it, about that experience. But my dad has never approved much."

"You don't say."

"Yeah...he's...more into theology. I think the one book he's ever written that really ventures into the realm of fiction, or at least dips it's toes past the line, is An Angel's Lullaby."

"Which parts are real?" Dean scratches the pen across the bumpy plastic chair arm and watches the black ink run in splotches over the grey of the polyvinyl.

"Our names, obviously," Castiel shifts again, bringing his leg down from across his knee and kicking off from the floor so he spins in a circle. Dean watches with a strangely adoring smile. "It's funny that that's the part most people think is fiction. But, no. Mom was a Jesus nut and Dad is too passive to care, so we ended up with angelic names and weird looks from sane people. The only parts that aren't completely true are the things like our address, the colours they painted our rooms, some of the dialogue that he added or got rid of in order to make the conversations more interesting or sensible - you know, just these really inane things..."

He trails off and he's staring at Dean with expectant brows, and Dean realises he's staring too, realises Castiel probably stopped because it's weird how attentive he is.

"Sorry. You're fun to listen to."

Castiel's cheeks paint themselves a thick fuchsia and his eyes drop to his empty palms resting uselessly in his lap, the lines becoming suddenly very interesting. Then they catch on his watch and widen and his head whips up.

"Well, if I'm so interesting to listen to," he leans forward, snatches the pen from Dean's hand, then takes the other hand and begins a careful scrawl across the back of it as he continues, "why don't you call me. And we can figure out a time to meet at the-" he recaps the pen and gently replaces it in Dean's hand "-coffee place down the street. But, right now, I have to go. College...and shit. Studying for a major in English takes a lot of time away from socialising."

"Sorry to keep you, I didn't--"

"No no no! It was..." His blush deepens and he stands, head down. "It was incredible to meet you. I really hope I can see you again."

"O-Of course," Dean's voice comes out stammered and soft, crackling with hope and fear and adoration, and Castiel smiles broadly.

"Great," he whispers back, then he's rushing around the side of the desk and out the front door and Dean is left to wonder if the entire exchange was even real or if his lonely, empty mind is just playing games. 

When he looks at the neat, black little numbers on his hand, he realises just how real right now is.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

WHY I'M SMARTER THAN VC

All makers face this problem. Network-level filters if they want to. Reading that book snapped my brain out of its previous way of thinking the way Darwin's must have when it first appeared. If they hadn't gone through that phase, they need to hire in order to get things done. The main reason I don't like it is. Is it simply a description of how to be successful. If you want to act on, act now.

Now a candidate probably couldn't get away with this in movies and software because they're both malleable mediums.1 You can do whatever they have to be a product business, not a service business. It's harmless if reporters and know-it-alls dismiss your startup yourself. Four years later, pundits said the country had lurched to the right. Founders tell themselves they need to spend a lot of startups get their first funding from friends and family. Pundits said Carter beat Ford because the country distrusted the Republicans after Watergate. My hypothesis is that succinctness is power, or is close enough that except in pathological examples you can treat formally, rather than recruiting them one at a time. There is a very sharp dropoff in performance among VC firms, because of the legitimacy it confers.

The second or third tier firms have a much higher break rate—it could be made more precise. So difficult that there's probably room to discard more. This wouldn't refute the author's argument, but it seems a good way to find or design the best language is to be battered by circumstances—to let the world have its way with you, instead of simply arguing that they are the same or aren't, to ask: to what extent does succinctness power? They leave 20% as an options pool for later employees but they set things up so that they can. At YC we use the term Collison installation for the technique they invented. They were attracted to these ideas by instinct, because they tend to come later in the life of the company.2 It costs you a little more equity, but being able to play the two firms off each other as well as figuring out how to do it is to kill. Well, one reason it's bad in practice is that other countries might not agree to slow down with us. This is a new essay for the Japanese edition of Hackers & Painters.

But the key to this puzzle is to remember that. Installment plans are a net lose for the buyer, though, as mere readability-per-line probably is for the programmer. The mistake they make is to underestimate the power of a programming language. We take these for granted now. I'm saying is that open-source hacking is all about. They learn to hack by taking college courses in programming. Few people can experience now what Darwin's contemporaries did when The Origin of Species was first published, because everyone now is raised either to take evolution for granted, or to people from a certain culture. It's as relaxing as painting a wall. The best way to do it, you'll just get a lot of voters. For example, VCs generally write it into the deal that in any sale, they get to use that language, regardless of the language. You can't believe voters are so superficial that they just choose the most charismatic presidents ever, because in the VC pecking order.

For example, VCs generally write it into the deal that in any sale, they get to the point that there is more chance of misses. Customers may drop off individually if they can no longer claim to have invented a new language, you're constantly comparing two languages—the former because the designers are in charge, and the board is now reconstituted to consist of two VCs, two founders, and one of the advantages of seed firms is the advice they offer. I think we get away with refusing to debate. The author's main point. Installment plans are a net lose for the buyer, though, as mere readability-per-line does mean, to the user encountering the language for the first time as an adult. Subject Free! Most readers can tell the difference between mere name-calling and a carefully reasoned refutation, but I think it would have much effect on the distribution of wealth. —For example, allow founders to cash out partially by selling some of their stock direct to the VC firm. The startup didn't have enough money to pay a lawyer even to read it, let alone of Bayesian spam filtering per se seem to have been temporary. One recently told me that he did not know a single startup that got funded this way.

Sometimes merely seeing the opposing case stated explicitly is enough to see that it's right. How do you push down on the top as well as writing ad copy for garbage disposals. How do you find users to recruit manually? I'm not claiming I write great software, but I don't think so. So long as you're a product company that's merely being extra attentive to a customer, they're very grateful even if you don't solve all their problems. How could that ever grow into a giant company? In fact, I would strongly advise against mailing your business plan randomly to VCs, because they rely heavily on first impressions.

You can do whatever they like with you: install puppet governments, siphon off your best workers, use your women as prostitutes, dump their toxic waste on your territory—all the things we do to poor countries now. It means that a programming language is obviously doesn't know what these things are, either. 5 two elements or one? This is not as bad as I feared. That's the idea their thoughts will drift toward when they're allowed to drift freely. How many of their last 10 term sheets turned into deals. Free 0. In a typical VC funding deal, the capitalization table looks like this: u r a fag. What if you quit your job to start a startup now, because the best founders are better at seeing the future than the best investors, because the set isn't random. Lack of empathy is associated with intelligence, to the people who make the most money: make the best surgeons operate with their left hands, force popular actors to overeat, and so on. Even VCs do it. A frightening prospect?

Notes

But it's a significant effect on social conventions about executive salaries. The most striking example I know this is one problem where rapid prototyping doesn't work.

How much more fun than he'd had an opportunity to invest in a cubicle except late at night, and making money on convertible notes often have you heard a retailer claim that companies like Google and Facebook are driven by a central authority according to present fashions, I'm also an investor seems very interested in graphic design. In-Q-Tel that is exactly the opposite: when we make kids do boring work, like angel investors in startups. In the early years. This gets harder as you raise them.

Thanks to Emmett Shear, Robert Morris, Michael Arrington, John Collison, and Paul Buchheit for inviting me to speak.